


Maid of Sterner Stuff

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Candy Hearts [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bucky in a corset, Crossdressing, M/M, Over the Knee, Remote Control, Spanking, Tickling, Vibrators, You're Welcome, maid!Bucky, role play, stockings and lace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Bucky, who blushes at the drop of a hat, and who has to be practically tied down in order to talk dirty… gets ambitious when Tony’s gone on one of his business trips.





	Maid of Sterner Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> for ash339273
> 
> This story takes place in the communal kitchen au, somewhere before Proposal of Doom, but there's no real specific spot. You also don't need to read Kitchen for this to make sense, it's just porn.

 

So, Bucky could understand, really, he could, why the President of the Lebanese Republic might not want him in the country. For that matter, the Vice President and probably most of the cabinet wouldn’t be too thrilled about the idea of the Winter Soldier being invited inside their borders. They’d let him in, all right, if Tony Stark would have allowed him to be tried for crimes against the state.

Since that wasn’t going to happen -- if Bucky could have ever adequately paid for those crimes, he would have accepted punishment, but he couldn’t -- and Stark Industries had business that called for Tony Stark to be in the country for three weeks, Bucky was staying in the Tower.

It was maddening. They kept promising not to leave each other, and it still kept happening. Two weeks here, ten days there. Never so long that Bucky couldn’t bear it, but at the same time, he really couldn’t bear it.

Talking on the phone, Skyping, constant texting… Bucky was on fucking Damascus time, just so he didn’t miss anything.

There were six days left when the package arrived.

Bucky had ordered it almost as soon as Tony left and he’d started to get nervous that it wasn’t going to be there before Tony was back.

But finally, it arrived.

Bucky’s hand was trembling, just touching the cardboard. Discreet packaging, the site had advertised. That much was true; and as the package had been delivered by one of Tony’s infuriating mouse droids (“They’re courier bots,” Tony had painstakingly corrected, but to Bucky, they looked like the damn mouse droids from Star Wars and much to Tony’s mock dismay, the name had stuck.) no human hands had touched it since the box arrived at the Tower.

Good. Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand it if one more fucking Avenger knew about his sex life.

He was blushing just touching the damn box.

 _Fuck_.

He held up his phone and tossed his hair back, taking a picture. Tony liked it when he blushed, even if it made Bucky all squirmy and twitchy, made him want to hide his face and die of embarrassment. But Tony liked it when his face was pink, when his neck got blotchy. A few times, when Bucky was mortified, Tony would gleefully peel up Bucky’s shirt to trace the red splotches that decorated Bucky’s chest.

Bucky looked at the photo; cheeks brilliant red, eyes downcast, the way his hair tumbled against his face. Yeah, Tony would like that.

He played with the filters a bit, bringing the pink out more, getting the barely-there glimpse of his eyes to look inviting and liquid. Added a caption. _Thinking about you._ Hit send before he could overthink it.

Bucky used the side of the metal thumb to slit the tape on the package. He hesitated before opening the box, but if he was going to do this, he needed to prep. There was no way, at all, that he could manage to face Tony on the first trial. He was shivering, just thinking about it.

He flipped the cardboard flaps open and laid out several parcels, wrapped in red and black tissue paper and tied with ribbons. Two cardboard tubes. An inventory, that he tossed onto the bedside table without looking at it. He already knew what was supposed to be in the box.

Flicked the top of one of the cardboard tubes off. This one was pretty basic, even if he’d had the manufacturer make him up something custom. He’d managed to sweet talk JARVIS into letting him get a branding license for Tony’s arc-reactor symbol (and more to the point, not tell Tony about it) and the manufacturer had agreed, provided he could use the item as an example on his web site (without mentioning who he’d had it made for.) The remote-control plug was simple, black silicone, the base that kept it secured was Tony’s own symbol. The remote itself had Bucky’s star on the side.

He tested the remote, feeling the buzz against his wrist. Jesus, that was powerful. It was going to chew through the batteries pretty quick. Bucky hoped.

The second tube was simpler, an off-the-shelf item. He flicked the feathered end along his arm. Soft, light, no scratchy ends. Just right for sensation play.

Bucky chewed his lip, feeling the tingle of blood against his teeth. The tissue wrapped packages seemed too… innocuous, somehow.

He flicked a glance over his shoulder, as if he hadn’t already checked to see if the door was secured five or six times already. He half expected JARVIS to remind him that he’d already checked it, but the AI seemed to know that Bucky was nervous and remained silent. Or the AI didn’t really care. Bucky was never quite sure what it was. He did, however, trust JARVIS with his life -- both the literal sort, and his sex life, which he held a little more dearly, all things considered. JARVIS wouldn’t let anyone walk in on him.

No more stalling. Bucky unwrapped the packages, careful with tissue and ribbon, savoring the reveal as much as he could.

The boots were patent leather, shiny, knee-high with a dozen buckle enclosures. A slight heel, but mostly just a two inch platform. Bucky was already taller than Tony, no sense in making Tony tiny comparatively.

Bucky ran one finger down the leather, feeling the slick slide of it. The scent of new leather filled his nostrils. Had a brief, powerful image of Tony, on his knees, licking the boot, and shivered again.

Two bands of leather, with brilliant silver buckles. Tony had a thing for straps; they would take the place of garters, since Bucky wasn’t quite willing (yet? Perhaps? Someday?) to shave his legs and wear stockings.

Moment of truth.

He pulled out the underwear; nearly sheer, with black lace. Boy-shorts, the website had advertised them as. Capped with the black skirt and white apron to complete the look, his dick would be concealed -- barely -- at least for the beginning of play, but his entire ass was going to be visible through the black cloth. When the skirt wasn’t concealing him, everything was going to be on display.

The final item in the box was a lace-up corset, a cincher that would draw attention to his hips and waist, yet leave his nipples exposed. There was a strap, a barely-there bit of lace, that could attach to the sides and slide around his neck to hide those, as well, if he wanted.

_Jesus._

Bucky stared at the outfit, spread out on their bed. He was furiously hot all over, his gut tangled in knots, and he was pretty sure his stiffie was at more than half mast already. And he hadn’t even put any of it _on_.

 _Bzzt_. New text from Tony: _Well, if I wasn’t thinking about you before, I am now. What, exactly, are you thinking of, there?_

Bucky nearly dropped his phone.

He flicked his eyes between the text and the items on the bed. Wondered if it would ruin the occasion if he _told_ Tony what he had in mind. It would save him one worry; if Tony knew it was in the works, he probably wouldn’t laugh.

His chest heated, just thinking about that.

Tony wouldn’t do that to him.

He _wouldn’t_.

On the other hand, surprises that weren’t surprising weren’t lots of fun, either. Sometimes you just had to anticipate. And hope that things turned out well.

_Got a surprise for you, when you get home._

He arranged some of the tissue paper artfully over the feather-duster, leaving the wrapped leather handle poking out, along with the remote for the plug. Fiddled with his phone for a while until he got an angle he liked, with no shadows. He used the noir filter and sent Tony the snapshot in classic black and white.

It was harder to breathe than it should have been, but there was no way, even if he caved and told Tony (Maybe even set up some boudoir-style photos) that he could do this without a practice run.

Bucky stripped.

Folded his clothes and laid them neatly in the chair.

New text from Tony: _Holy mother of Turing, is that your star? How... you know what, I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is why JARVIS won’t show me the penthouse feed. Are you doing something naughty?_

Bucky swallowed hard. For just a moment, he felt more naked than he ever had in his life. “Thank you, J,” he said. JARVIS didn’t answer, but that was all right. Bucky knew that JARVIS had heard him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be carrying on conversation right now anyway, and the fact that JARVIS knew and respected that was… almost humbling.

_Yes. Definitely doing something naughty._

Just typing the word made him feel squirmy, although this time, there was a jolt of heat to it. A delicious thrill that he was doing something wanton and wicked and that Tony would probably like it.

Honestly, Tony had taken so very much control of their sex lives; it wasn’t that he was domineering or anything. And he was only _submissive_ when Bucky asked him to be. But he was often, nearly always, the one making the suggestions, nudging Bucky to greater and greater acts of lasciviousness.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had taken a little initiative, but he was usually just happy to follow where Tony led.

He arranged the camera again, since he was naked anyway, a simple shot. Carefully, just the crease of his thigh. Absolutely no dick, just the shadow of it, the _suggestion_ of a dick pic.

_Here’s your preview._

New text from Tony: _So very, very unfair. I am about to walk into a meeting that is now going to last a subjective ten years while I ignore the people who have been frantically throwing together a presentation for me so I can figure out how to talk you into telling me what you’re doing._

_Good. Stay out of trouble for a while. I won’t be._

He probably shouldn’t send Tony any more pictures while he was in a meeting; not because Tony couldn’t handle it. Bucky had, once, actually crawled under Tony’s desk and given him a very slow and sensual handjob while Tony was on a conference call with the London office and the man had barely squeaked the whole time. But because there was no way to control if anyone was walking around behind Tony, or had cameras in place.

Bucky put the phone down and stepped into the lacy little drawers. They fit tight, straining the material around his thighs. He turned, looking at himself in the full length mirror on the door to the dressing room. He shuddered again, feeling that spark of heat low in his belly. He knew what he looked like naked and fully hard -- he was still at half-mast, feeling the pull of the silky material -- and when he was, his cockhead was going to be peeking out of the top, like a tease.

He scooped up the feather duster and flicked it, using the feathery ends to conceal himself.

That… that was a mistake.

The feather brushed over the head of his cock, tickled down the shaft. Both sensations were tantalizing, making his skin tingle and his blood throb through his veins. _Jesus_. For just a moment, he was able to close his eyes and imagine what that might feel like when he was utterly unprepared for it. How Tony would want to tease and torment him with that, and the surge of wanting that went through him nearly brought him to his knees.

He went back to the bed, laced up the boots. They weren’t quite standard, and he wouldn’t want to march in them, but he could probably stand them for a few hours; the buckles were going to leave marks on his calves for a while, but that was okay. Bucky’s skin healed quick, and he liked those little, lingering reminders for the few moments they might last.

He turned; the boots had just enough heel to lift his legs, give more curve to his ass. He studied himself in the mirror. He still wasn’t quite as firm and perky and round as Tony’s ass, but he did okay, he thought. Tony never seemed to object, at least. It wasn’t his best feature, but he supposed if someone had to have the world’s best ass, it was at least the one Bucky got to have his hands on the most often.

Absently, he scooped up his phone and took a picture of the rear view, his buttocks muscular and taut, his crack clearly visible, the cleft just above the line of his drawers. Huh. He looked closely at the picture. He wondered if Tony knew that Bucky had a dimple in his left buttcheek when his foot was flexed. He struggled for a moment, wondering how to ask _that_ question.

He pulled on the skirt, a flouncy, fluffy, french-maid style thing, barely darker than the drawers, but when he tied it on, the two materials were almost opaque. Just the hints, the lines, of his cock were visible. He flipped the skirt around until it was exactly right, letting the fabric brush the tops of his thighs. It was open in the back, more like an apron than anything, despite the dark material. He wanted -- the whole point -- was to show off the plug when he was turned around. To show Tony who Bucky belonged to.

Bucky was shivering, eager now, rather than embarrassed, as he pulled on the white, lacy apron and then the corset.

He laced himself into it. That took some doing; he had to fasten the back, hook and eye clasps, then lace the front. Then he had to take the whole thing off and tighten it. This part would have gone a lot better with someone to help him, but he could not imagine asking someone else  -- he turned brilliant scarlet, neck heating so bad it was almost painful. The vents in his arm opened and fluttered a few times, dumping heat. No. No help.

Finally he got the whole thing properly arranged and turned to study the effect.

There was a stranger in the mirror.

His whole life, people had called him beautiful, even back in the thirties when it was considered extremely rude and emasculating, women hadn’t been able to help it, often phrased like, “if it weren’t terrible to call a man _beautiful_.”

A few times, someone had ventured into calling him _pretty_.

Tony called him pretty, from time to time.

He’d never minded.

But he’d never _felt_ pretty. Or beautiful.

Looking at himself, nipples on fucking display, the shape of his cock clearly visible through the skirts, the way the heeled boots lifted him and rounded his ass… Bucky felt _pretty_.

Like a _present_. Something that Tony would want to look at, just for the view, and then slowly unwrap.

He gathered the strands of his hair together and pulled it up and back from his face, twisting it into a sloppy bun and holding it with one hand while looking at himself over his shoulder, half-turned toward the mirror.

“Holy shit,” he said, the rumble of his voice surprising.

For just a moment, the sound of his own voice, deep and dark, ruined the image he was trying to project. All the shame, the mortification, the knowing what he was doing was wrong, was sinful and depraved came rushing in. His skin heated, his belly twisted and cramped. For just a few minutes, he wanted to tear the whole outfit off, throw it away, incinerate it, pretend he’d _never_ had this idea.

It was an effort of will, but Bucky lifted his chin. Met his own eyes in the mirror. “No,” he told himself, firmly. “I look _pretty_.”

***

Tony was a _professional_ , and so instead of bolting out of the jet and heading straight for the car, he actually finished talking to Pepper about what the Lebanese company had put in their presentation, as well as the things they had _not_ put in their presentation, and even remembered to say goodbye before he disconnected and the all but tore the headset off his head and threw it away.

God, he needed to get home, and fast. Bucky had been texting him for days -- not their usual playful and unsubtle sexting, but delicate, teasing angles and carefully-chosen words, and more pictures with shadows that hid most of what he was looking at. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Bucky was getting Steve to do all those artsy-fartsy pics. But there was no way Bucky would ask Steve to help with that (and there was no way that if Bucky _did_ ask, Steve would actually _do_ it). So all Tony knew was that Bucky had some kind of plan. It involved at least one, or possibly a few, toys. Something with lace. Something very, very sheer.

Something that was driving Tony _mad_ with curiosity, and also he was pretty sure he’d been half-hard for most of the past two days.

Finally, the car. It was late enough that he shouldn’t hit rush hour traffic, at least. He tossed his traveling bag (at least 60% electronics and chargers) into the trunk, and then slid into the cool embrace of the leather seat. He curled his hands around the steering wheel, already anticipating the feel of acceleration and the glorious response... and paused.

There was a notecard on the dashboard, propped up where he would see it. He blinked. Hesitated. Picked it up.

_Check the glovebox, baby. If you want to play, tap the button twice and give me 15 minutes. --B  
PS -- after 15 minutes, push the button as much as you want._

Oh, god. Forget the car, _Tony_ had gone from idling to sixty in 2.3 seconds. He fumbled open the glovebox, and out tumbled...

A remote. A _Winter Soldier themed remote_. Or at least, it was in Bucky’s colors, and that red star looked molded in, not added to a generic off-the-shelf item.

What, Tony wondered, did it control?

Only one way to find out. He tapped the button twice, and started a mental clock as the car’s engine roared to life. He could be at the Tower in fifteen minutes, if he tried hard enough.

Tony might have been trying, but traffic was conspiring against him, and he got stuck at least twice in the sort of dead stop, move forward six inches kind of bullshit that killed fuel efficiency and gave Tony a lot of sympathy for the guy in Despicable Me with his giant car and his Freeze Ray.

It gave him a few minutes to study the remote; not only custom, but custom _ized_. The battery pack had been tampered with, and when he opened it up, there was no mistaking the Stark-Tech that extended the thing’s range. Bucky had been _busy_.

He checked the time: eighteen minutes. Stark Tower was visible, but still a few maddeningly traffic-jammed blocks away. He gave the thing an experimental tap. Nothing happened, though he hadn’t really expected anything on his end. What it was doing on Bucky’s end... Well, he had a few guesses, each more intriguing than the last.

Given the instructions in Bucky’s note, he decided to push the button in celebration every time his car got to inch forward.

 _Finally_ at Stark Tower, he all but threw the keyfob onto its hook and raced for the elevator, which seemed desperately slow. (It probably wasn’t. Maybe. JARVIS was obviously conspiring with Bucky against him... for him, whatever... but Bucky wasn’t likely to ask JARVIS to keep Tony away _longer_.)

He stormed through the common areas, flipping a quick wave at whoever was there (he didn’t bother to check). It didn’t matter, everyone knew how he and Bucky both got when they’d been apart for more than a few days. No one would bother them for at least twenty-four hours unless it was an actual emergency.

Finally, _finally_ , he pushed through the door into their room. “Honey, I’m home!”

The lights in the penthouse were dimmed, just barely above candlelight levels, cloaking the room in shadow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Bucky’s voice was low, a hint of… subservience in his tone. Not quite what Tony was used to and it took him a moment to place it, while he was still scanning the room trying to figure out where Bucky _was_. All in all, it reminded him of the various interns and secretaries and subordinates he’d dealt with, the ones who were quite certain they’d done something wrong and were about to be fired for it. Pleading and anxious and coaxing all at the same time. “I was supposed to be done by the time you arrived. Bad me.”

Bucky was in the dressing room, arranging the photographs and small knick knacks and stylish paperweights that adored that surface.

For an instant, Tony wasn’t quite certain what he was seeing, so he did a slow scan, starting at Bucky’s feet.

Bucky was wearing knee-high buckled boots. Buckled _high-heeled_ boots. With a brilliant patent leather shine. About halfway up his bare thigh, a thin leather band circled his leg, matched on the other side, with matching silver buckles that held the leather against his skin. He’d caught Bucky in the act of turning, and the lacy, crinoline skirt was still swinging around Bucky’s muscular thighs, showing a peek of red lace underneath. He had a… feather-duster? in his hands, fingers twisting nervously around the handle. Tony dragged his gaze up further to see the leather corset that pulled in Bucky’s waist, drew attention to his hips. The top of the garment was low enough to show off most of his chest, but a strap of lace that held it up just barely lay across his nipples, showing the slightest curve of the dark skin.

Bucky had pulled his hair up and back, a few locks tugged out to frame his face. Not nearly enough to shield his face the way it normally did when he was nervous, giving Tony the full force of Bucky’s bashful, wanting stare.

Oh, _god_. Tony had expected something. He hadn’t expected _anything_ like this. He had to actively focus on closing his mouth before he started drooling. He looked Bucky over again, slowly, brain going almost as fast as his heart. “Yyyes,” he managed. Words. Words were not something that was happening right now. No, stop, he had to say _something_ or Bucky was going to think he didn’t like it, god forbid. “That’s very naughty of you, darling. I can’t be too mad, though, since it means I get to watch you finish up, hm?”

Bucky ducked his chin, then looked up at Tony from under lowered lashes. “Of course, Mr. Stark,” he said. “Of course you want to supervise, I’m so sorry. I’m just _terrible_ at my job, but you mustn’t tell my supervisor. I need this job, I’ll do just _anything_ you want to make it up to you.” His voice started pleading and shy, but ended in a purring suggestion.

With that, Bucky turned back to the dresser, flicking his feather duster over the immaculate surface. He bent at the waist, just a little. The back of his outfit was sheer, not covering or hiding _anything_. He had one hip cocked as he worked, the tight gossamer fabric stretched as he moved. The legs had a piping of delicate red lace along the edges, beautiful against Bucky’s coppery skin. As he moved and flexed, letting his hips shift, his thighs spread a little, Tony noticed a dark round shape that kept Bucky’s cheeks spread a little, the dark knob a tantalizing hint that Bucky was keeping himself _ready_ for Tony’s attentions.

Tony’s brain nearly shut down entirely at that -- not just the actual physical reality, though that was amazing enough -- but that _Bucky_ , who blushed at the drop of a hat and had to be practically tied down to be nudged into dirty talk, had thought of, prepared, and was executing something so daring. This was... this was Christmas and his birthday and the god damned Fourth of July _all at once_.

Tony took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself -- Bucky’s head ducked, but not before Tony spotted a smirk forming -- and dropped into a chair, letting his legs fall wide in his best manspread. “Oh, I couldn’t let you be fired,” he purred. “Pretty little thing like you? I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. I’m sure once you’re done with that, we’ll come up with some way for you to make it up to me.” He sprawled his arms over the chair’s arms and leaned his head back, the picture of indolence, though he watched Bucky from under his lashes. He paused a beat, and then tapped at the button on the remote still loosely held in one hand.

Bucky squeaked, his back arched in a lovely curve. The faint, mechanical buzz of the vibrator sizzled in the air, then--

The plug Bucky was wearing _lit up_ , pale blue and… the metal end of it reflected a little, a gleaming silver, but it was a perfect replica of the second model of the arc-reactor, round and perfect, the lattice-work around the edge exact to the millimeter. Bucky whimpered, then tossed his head up and back, some of the strands of his bun falling out. “Of course, Mr. Stark,” he said, a little breathless. “I’m eager to help out, sir. Let me know if I miss a spot?” His thighs quivered a little, but Bucky was obviously trying to ignore the vibrating plug, snug in his ass, as he arranged the pictures and doo-dads on the dresser, sweeping over them with his feather duster.

“Come on over here and check this table,” Tony said. “I’m sure I saw a smudge or something.” He let up on the remote, watching as Bucky turned to walk across the room. He always liked to watch his boyfriend walk -- Bucky’s thighs were to die for -- but good _lord_ , this flimsy little costume only made it better. Just as Bucky got within reach, Tony thumbed the remote again.

Closer up, the buzz of the vibrator was louder, not the slightest bit muffled by Bucky’s low, shivering moan. Bucky paused in his strut, just long enough for Tony to watch him press his knees together for an instant’s relief. Bucky swallowed hard, then bent over to inspect the table at Tony’s elbow.

Tony’s hands itched; he put his free hand on Bucky’s hip. “Careful,” he said, laying on the smarmy false solicitousness. “You look a little unsteady there. Maybe you should come sit down for a moment.” He patted his thigh invitingly.

“Yes, perhaps,” Bucky said, his cheeks flushing again. “ _Fait-il chaud ici, ou c’est juste vous?_ I do feel a little dizzy.” He let himself perch on Tony’s leg, skirts falling to cover his thighs, the feather-duster back to being clenched in both his hands like a weapon, or a lifeline. The pulse point in his throat fluttered as Bucky arranged his legs, crossing his ankles in a display of absolutely worthless modesty. “Thank you, sir, for your kind attention.” He batted his eyelashes, lowering his gaze until it fell squarely on the vee of Tony’s legs.

Tony patted Bucky’s thigh, and then let his hand stay there, stroking idly with his thumb along the edge of that leather band, toying with the buckle, pushing the edge of the lace farther up Bucky’s thigh. “That’s good, darling. You’re so polite, so sweet for me. I bet you’re just aching to thank me properly, hm?”

Bucky leaned closer, his lips not quite brushing against Tony’s throat. “I’m _desperate_ to thank you properly, sir,” he said. He let the feather duster dangle from the strap around his wrist and he loosened Tony’s tie, letting the silk slide through his hand. He coiled the silk around his fingers, tugging it out of the collar. He flexed one ankle, his legs shifting on Tony’s thigh, squirming just a little. “How can I make it up to you, so careless, yes, to still be working when you arrive, and everything should be just perfect for you, sir. I am ashamed.” Bucky lowered his eyes, playing shy to the hilt, his voice breaking and the rest of his sentence delivered in a breathless whisper.

“Hm, that’s true,” Tony mused. He worked his hand higher up Bucky’s thigh, until the fall of the skirt half-covered it. “That _was_ quite careless, wasn’t it? Still, you’re so sweet, I’m sure it was only an accident. So we can take care of it ourselves, with no need to involve your supervisor. All is forgiven -- after your punishment, of course.”

Bucky’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, followed by the drag of his teeth over the lower one before he was able to raise his chin to meet Tony’s gaze. “You certainly can take care of me yourself, sir,” he said, husky. “What… what sort of punishment?” He was shivering in Tony’s arms, projecting trepidation, but Tony could see the edges of anticipation, quivering delight, desperate need sneaking in.

That was the question. Bucky liked pain in ways Tony didn’t quite understand, and his accelerate healing and enhanced strength meant it was difficult for Tony to really satisfy him on that score, not while staying within the limits that Tony was comfortable with. On the other hand, Bucky hadn’t stopped blushing since Tony had walked in the room; he was already almost overextended there, which generally meant he felt everything else more sharply. Tony considered Bucky’s expression for a moment.

Well. If he had a specific desire in mind, Tony had given him plenty of opportunities to suggest them. And with that _astonishing_ plug... Tony rather shamelessly wanted to see it surrounded in Iron Man red. “I think,” he said slowly, watching Bucky’s expression, “that I’m going to put you over my knee, like the naughty little thing you’ve been, and we’ll see if I feel you’re suitably chastised when I’ve worn out my arm a bit.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open, almost tumbled straight out of character with the low, heated groan. “God, _Tony_ ,” he said. He blinked a few times, shook his head, which messed up his bun a little more, sending tendrils of hair down to frame his face. His cheeks were flaming, but it didn’t stop him from sending a searing look in Tony’s direction before forcibly backing up into the role he’d set for himself. His voice was shaking by the time he picked up the thread. “If you… if you think I deserve it.” He twisted up to his feet a moment, then knelt between Tony’s thighs. “Let me help you, sir, with your suit; you wouldn’t want it to wrinkle.” His fingers were busy at Tony’s buttons, efficiently stripping him out of the jacket, button-down shirt, and undershirt. He got a finger tucked in Tony’s belt and pulled it free, folded the leather in half and laying it on the table that Tony had declared needed some extra cleaning.

Bucky took his time, unhooked the cufflinks and scurried into the dressing room to put them away, hung up the suit jacket, and slid the shirt into the dry-cleaning bag. He squeaked when Tony thumbed the remote again, reminding him to hurry up. Bucky was shivering and chastised by the time he returned to his place by Tony’s side. He turned, presenting his ass for Tony’s inspection. “Over your knee, sir?” he asked, a little pert, the boots bringing out the smooth roundness of his ass.

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “I want to feel you squirming so I know the lesson is -- shall we say, hitting home.”

The look Bucky slanted him at that was completely out of character, a brief huff of exasperation, then Bucky was back in character, his hands twisting nervously. He added the feather duster to the belt on Tony’s table, then shivered and squatted down. Bucky sucked in a breath and leaned over Tony’s thighs, snugging up to the outside of Tony’s leg, taking the opportunity to rub himself against Tony with a soft, needy moan, then settled. It took him a moment to settle, arms on the floor on the far side of Tony’s lap, knees together, feet apart for balance. He shivered, shuddered, tried to look over his shoulder at Tony, but eventually let his head fall between his arms and breathed, muscles quivering with anticipation.

Tony ran his hand over Bucky’s ass and flanks, just feeling the warm skin and letting Bucky anticipate. “So good for me,” he murmured. He touched the plug base with two fingers and pushed, gently, pressing it deeper to feel Bucky shiver, to hear that soft groan of desperation.

No sense in trying to be coy or sneaky about it, though; Bucky’s senses were finely-tuned enough that he’d be able to detect even the slightest shift of Tony’s body.

So after he let the plug settle back into its natural position, he simply lifted his hand and brought it down at the bottom of Bucky’s ass with a sharp crack.

Bucky inhaled with a sharp sound. He wriggled a little on Tony’s lap, not quite clear if he was twitching away from an anticipated blow, or settling in. His hands shifted, one tenting over the floor to keep him upright, the metal one closing on Tony’s ankle, the servos humming as he flexed his palm. “Do… do you want me to count, sir?” Bucky twisted his neck, looking up at Tony.

“Of course,” Tony said, and punctuated it with another smack.

“Two, sir,” Bucky said, breathless again. He wriggled a little more urgently on Tony’s lap; his cock was hard as stone, pressing against Tony’s thigh. He tossed another look over his shoulder, sharp and hot. _Daring_.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Feeling quite fresh, are we?” He laid the next blow right beside the plug, jarring it.

That one got a straight up whine accompanied by a flex of Bucky’s thighs, rocking him against Tony’s leg. “Three,” he managed. The skin along the back of his neck was dull, brick red, splotches of color blooming against his shoulders like flowers. He didn’t look back that time, head hanging between his arms.

“That’s better,” Tony said, and matched the blow on the other side. He kept going, a slow and steady pattern that raised a bright, cheerful glow on Bucky’s skin, his own cock pulsing and hot and aching with the gorgeous noises Bucky made, whimpers and gasps and groans. After a dozen or so, he paused, hand flat against Bucky’s heated skin, and leaned in to ask quietly, “Do you want to come, pretty?”

Bucky hissed, twisted a little under Tony’s hand, an involuntary shiver. Beyond that, he didn’t move, didn’t raise his head or shift his fingers on the floor. His breath came in quick pants, and he sucked air between his teeth before finally answering. “If you… if I deserve it. Sir.”

“Oh, _so_ good,” Tony praised, sliding a soothing hand down Bucky’s spine. “So perfect for me.” He plucked a feather out of the duster, and brushed it across Bucky’s upper thighs.

Bucky nearly shrieked; it came out as a strangled squeak, his entire body shuddering and he jerked forward a few inches in an attempt to evade the too-soft touch. “Oh, _Christ_ ,” he swore through clenched teeth.

“Oh, now _that’s_ a nice reaction.” Tony dragged the feather up the back of one leg, traced a lazy spiral across Bucky’s still-red ass, and down the other leg. “That’s _very_ nice.”

Bucky had managed to hold himself still through most of the spanking, trembling or moaning from time to time, but now… _now_ he was squirming, twitching, voice going up several registers as he pleaded, “oh, god, Tony, sir… _ohgod…_ ” He kept his hands flat on the floor, but the rest of him quailed or cringed away, whining when he wasn’t able to avoid it.

“Should’ve skipped straight to this,” Tony mused. “I always seem to forget just how much you like being tickled.” One of these days, he was going to find out if he could tickle Bucky all the way into orgasm. Probably could; Bucky tipped over that edge pretty easily, at least for Tony.

Tony eyed Bucky’s costume. The corset hid his ribs, but his upper back was nicely exposed, shoulders that would make a sculptor weep. Tony traced long, sweeping loops across that skin, teasing at the fold of his arm, threatening to dip into Bucky’s armpit. “It makes you so _responsive_.”

“Ohmigod, you _bastard_ ,” Bucky squeaked, then pulled all the way back until he was practically squatting, except the instant his ass came in contact with his calves, he hissed and stretched out again, face pressing against Tony’s thigh. “Shit, that stings.” He whimpered. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, oh, god, Tony… evil...”

“Mm, I have the distinct impression that you like me that way,” Tony pointed out. He dragged a fingernail lightly across Bucky’s ass, then followed the line with the feather. “Don’t you?”

Bucky shook his head a few times, not quite verbalizing the denial, then managed, “You have _no_ idea,” before he shifted again, getting stretched all the way out across Tony’s thighs. He did, however, grab hold of the leg of the chair as if to hold himself down.

“And when he was good, he was very, very good,” Tony recited, pausing to scritch his nails through Bucky’s hair. “And when he was bad, he was better. Check in for me, gorgeous.”

Bucky huffed a deep breath, let it out slow. “I’m good, doll,” he said. “Dark green maybe?” He shrugged one shoulder. “S’ harder than I thought it’d be, in some ways. Easier in others. _Like_ it, but… it is really hard to hold still for that. But th’ last thing I wanna do is elbow you in the face by accident.”

“I appreciate not being elbowed in the face,” Tony agreed. “So tell me, is it better like this...” He dragged the feather up Bucky’s leg, grinning as Bucky whined and twitched, visibly fighting to hold still. “Or like this?” He did it again, flicking on the remote as he did.

Bucky surged under Tony’s hand again, hips rutting helplessly against Tony’s thigh. He writhed all over, not trying to evade Tony’s touch, but simply unable to stay still against the onslaught of nerves and sensation. “Oh, Christ, that’s….” He gasped a few times, moaning on the exhale. “I don’t even… Tony, Tony, _please…_ ”

“I like it when you beg.” Tony smoothed his hand down Bucky’s flank. Christ, he could feel the vibration from the outside. “It’s fun to make you work for it, a little.”

“Tony…” Bucky was shivering continuously, occasionally wracked by deeper quivers, hair hanging completely loose from its style. “Anything. Anything you want, please, please, need… oh god, Tony. Always want you. Make me so crazy, baby. Please.”

Tony dragged it out a little longer, because it was something of a novelty to see Bucky willing to restrain himself for so long -- usually he begged for cuffs or the special rope before anything even got properly started.

But it had been several weeks for Tony, too, and even if his libido didn’t run quite as hot as Bucky’s, he’d still been plenty ready to hop into bed with his boyfriend. So it wasn’t much longer before he dropped the feather and pulled Bucky’s head up by the hair for a messy kiss. “Bed,” he said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky said, leaning heavily on Tony for a moment, nuzzling at his throat and chest, then stood up, graceful and powerful. His outfit was askew, hair messy in his face, eager and dishevelled and beautiful all at the same time. He couldn’t seem to stop touching, practically clinging to Tony the whole way to the bed, fingers brushing over Tony’s hair, his neck, shoulders. When they reached the bed, Bucky crawled on, giving Tony the view of him at full stretch, looking back over his shoulder with his best come-hither.

Tony groaned. “Baby, oh, god, you’re so gorgeous. I need to be in you _now_.” He shucked out of his pants and nearly stumbled over them, unable to take his eyes off Bucky.

Bucky twisted, rolling around on the bed until he was crawling _toward_ Tony, predator gleam in his eyes. “Yeah? You need that, baby?” He bit at his lower lip, watching Tony with a heavy, heated gaze. He wrapped one arm around Tony’s waist and pulled him in, mouth open to taste Tony’s skin. He licked at the point of Tony’s hip, traced his tongue down the groove. He let his breath tease over the wet skin. “How do you want me?”

Tony shuddered. “Any way I can-- no, face to face, I need to be able to kiss you. God, I’ve missed you.” He nudged Bucky back onto the bed and followed closely, not giving up an inch of space between them.

Bucky squirmed under Tony, getting Tony settled. He rubbed one leg against Tony’s hip, the slick feel of the boots sensual against Tony’s skin. “Yeah, missed you, missed you so much, baby. Get crazy for you, need you so bad.” He pulled Tony’s face down, kissed him, flicked his tongue over Tony’s mouth, drawing back whenever Tony tried to deepen the kiss until they were both panting before relenting and sealing their mouths together. His fingers traced lines up Tony’s back, teasing, light.

Tony arched into the touch, and when he pulled back to let oxygen back into his lungs, he sat back to look down at Bucky, sprawled before him. He traced one finger along the edge of the corset, flicking at the barely-exposed nipples, and then down the front lacings. “This is... This is amazing. _You’re_ amazing. I never would have expected this.”

“Yeah?” Bucky ducked his chin for a moment, shy and pleased. “I… yeah. Glad you like it. Wanted t’ show you somethin’ special. Know you… you like it when I get all hot’n bothered.” He took Tony’s hand and nipped light at his fingertip, dragged his lips over the knuckle. “You’re so good t’ me, baby.”

Tony snorted, but he knew from experience that was an argument he wasn’t going to win. “That’s definitely mutual. God, all those sweet, teasing pics; I thought I was going to burst a seam in the middle of a meeting.” He grinned, remembering, then leaned in for another kiss. “Love you,” he murmured, nuzzling and nipping along Bucky’s jaw to his throat, the soft skin under Bucky’s ear. “Want you.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side, giving Tony more room. “You got me, babydoll,” he said. “Want… want you in me. Take this damn plug out an’ give it to me.” Bucky rolled his body up again, rubbing himself against Tony, writhing with want. “Come on, come on, baby, take what you want.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Tony got the lube out of the nightstand drawer -- conveniently located right at the top of the pile of stuff -- and sat back to work the plug out. God, _his arc reactor_ , right there -- it was like a _brand_ , even better than when Bucky wore Iron Man or SI tees. “Let’s get this out and slick you back up so I can slide right on in.”

Bucky arched up, groaning with obscene delight as Tony tugged the plug free, sliding the teardrop shape past the ring of muscle. “Oh… oh….” He shuddered all over. “ _God_. Please now, Tony, oh, god...”  

Tony slicked himself as quickly as he could, clenching his teeth against the feel of it so he wouldn’t go off immediately. “I’ve got you, honey,” he promised. He lined himself up and rocked in, a slow, gentle push that snagged against Bucky’s opening for a moment, but then slipped right through. “Oh, _god_.”

Bucky sighed in satisfaction, his legs going up to wrap tight around Tony’s hips, heels of those boots pushing against Tony’s ass, urging him on. “Yeah, that’s… oh, god, Tony, you feel so good, it’s so good, baby.” He rocked himself up, meeting Tony’s rhythm with ease, rolling back onto his shoulders, working his hips with just the muscles in his core.

And _fuck_ , that felt so good, and Bucky was so damn _hot_ like this, desperate and needy and taking what he needed out of Tony, and still looking up like Tony was the sun and the moon... Just, _fuck_.

Tony groaned and fell onto his hands and caught Bucky’s mouth in a kiss, hungry and bright and sharp-edged with swiftly-rising passion. “Bucky, god, honey, _yes_...”

Bucky licked at Tony’s mouth, too passion-driven for mere kisses, he devoured Tony’s mouth, lipped down his throat, bit at his shoulder, each movement punctuated by a fierce grunt as he rocked himself up, fucking himself on Tony’s cock. Tony lost himself in the exquisite slide, the clench and heat of Bucky’s body, the way the metal fingers on Tony’s skin urged him; harder, faster, Tony, _now_. “I need…” Bucky keened, tossing his head from side to side, hair slick with sweat, clinging to his skin. “God, Tony… Tony, _more_.”

Nng. “You need more, honey?” Tony re-settled his knees and curled his hands around Bucky’s shoulder for leverage, and slammed home with everything he had. “Oh, _fuck_ , I’m not gonna last like this, baby, I need you... need you to come, honey. Touch yourself, let me feel it.”

Bucky got a hand between them, pressed his cock up against Tony’s belly, sliding it through the thin coating of precome there. “So good, you feel so right, I…” Bucky stroked himself, thrusting into his fist as he rode Tony’s dick, his muscles clenching and relaxing with each motion. “You got it, right there, oh, baby, it’s… god, it’s…” Bucky quaked, his thighs tightening around Tony’s ribs and he clenched down, squeezing as he came, a warm spill across his fingers and splattering against Tony’s chest.

Tony groaned as Bucky tightened around him, so hard he could barely keep moving. “Bucky, Bucky, oh god, baby, Bucky, god, you’re so good, so perfect, that’s so-- so fucking...” His breath stuttered and stalled as his own body lit on fire, a rush and a roar that blanked his senses for a long moment. “Oh _god_ ,” he gasped, suddenly aware that his grip on Bucky’s arm was probably tight enough to leave bruises. He couldn’t bring himself to care, much.

He dropped his head to rest against Bucky’s as they both huffed and panted. “Still holding onto that Best Boyfriend Ever title,” he managed.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed. “Yes. I agree.” He kissed the tip of Tony’s nose.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes
> 
> Fait-il chaud ici, ou c’est juste vous? -- is it hot in here, or is it just you? In french.
> 
> [The Arc Reactor](https://www.etsy.com/listing/288002769/iron-ass-uv-glow-in-the-dark-arc-reactor)
> 
> Art from Monobuu! SO CUTE, omG


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